


With Eyes Wide Open

by justscribbling



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Oneshot, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:16:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justscribbling/pseuds/justscribbling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just a week after the season two finale, Laurel meets up with Oliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Eyes Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

> Olicity if you squint (really hard?) but NOT anti-Laurel. Not anti-any character, actually.

Less than a week had passed since the city nearly burned down and Starling City Hall was still a mess. The offices was finally re-opened, but yellow tape still crisscrossed and barricaded many parts of the buildings. Broken pieces of furniture were pushed into scattered piles. The damages to the building that was not life threatening stayed as they were, to be fixed at a later date. A stain on the walls. A cracked table still being used. The flickering light fixtures.

Repairs and emergency relief efforts were already underway -- maybe the experience from last year's destruction had taught them a few things -- but the city needed more than just its infrastructure rebuilt. Starling City had lost her mayor, district attorney, and chief of police all in one night. A governing body was desperately needed. 

So, when the doors were opened, if there was mayhem at city hall, it was an ordered sort of mayhem inside those broken walls.

It didn't surprise Laurel that she was among the first to report to duty. It did surprise her, though, that Adam Donner had showed up, despite being technically fired. They met in front of the empty district attorney offices almost at the same time, and then, after exchanging a muted look of understanding, they'd pushed through the doors and started the business of putting things back in order.

It was only when Laurel caught a glimpse of Oliver hovering at those same doors that she paused and glanced at the clock. It was already half past three; she hadn't even eaten yet. 

"Give this to Stephanie and see if she can get a hold of Judge Matherson. " The young man she'd been talking to nodded, took the papers, and hurried off. Laurel found Adam on the other side of the office and she half waved to get his attention.

"Adam, I'll be back in half an hour."

 

They settled on the city park just down the road, which had been oddly spared of much damage. Guess even crazed, amped up criminals couldn't really find any reason to attack a tree or a shrubbery bush. Laurel held her coffee cup in both hands, feeling its warm through her palms. Oliver sat beside her on the bench, hands stuffed in his jacket. 

"You know," she said, "When you invite someone out for coffee, the idea is usually to have some coffee." She slanted him a pointed look before sipping her drink.

He smiled, a little sheepish. "The caffeine. It keeps me up at night."

Laurel lifted an eyebrow. "You look like you haven't slept in days, Ollie." 

Very briefly, she wondered where he slept these days, if he did. As far as she knew, the mansion and the club had been repossessed by Queen Consolidated.

"Yeah. Well." Oliver's laugh came out like a huffed sigh. He took out his hands from his pocket, pausing a moment as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them, and then settled on leaning a little forward to put each arm atop of his thighs. 

"How is your father?"

So, still small talk, she thought. Well, not exactly small talk, but. Okay. She could do that. 

"He's recovering. Collapsed lung. Two fractured ribs." Breath stuttered past her lips as she sighed. It wasn't the first time her father had been hurt, and it wouldn't be the last, but there'd been so much loss already. "Still, he's started to deliver his unique brand of disapproval and nagging again, so he must be feeling better."

"I'm glad to hear it."

She made a small hum in acknowledgment and took another sip of her drink. A silence fell between them for a while. They watched a FEMA truck drive past the main street, and then a young mother and her son walking through the park.

It was Laurel who finally broke the quiet. "So."

He turned to her, his expression carefully guarded even as he smiled. She was beginning to see it now: the way he walled himself up behind half smiles and semblances of old Ollie. It had frustrated and confused her for so long, because it felt familiar, her old Ollie -- the Ollie she thought had come back, despite the trauma of the island -- but it also felt wrong. Off. Untrue.

Ollie had changed. So much more than she could even begin to imagine. Well. She had changed, too.

"The Arrow."

"Yeah." His gaze shifted away from her and then back.

She sighed. "You know, I really wish you had told me, Ollie."

"I wanted to," he reminded her. 

"But you didn't," she pointed out. "In the end, I didn't even find out from you."

He took a small breath. "I couldn't." The half smile was gone now, and he looked so very solemn. "I couldn't… To protect you and in order to do what I do, I couldn't tell you."

"I understand." Laurel watched him, and he seemed to let out that small breath in relief. She tilted toward him, carefully cradling the coffee in her hands so it didn't slosh over her fingers. "But I still wish you had told me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. 

"Ollie, you lied to me." Her fingers curled a little tighter around the Styrofoam. "You did it to protect me, I get it. But all those lies, even the half-truths. Ollie… it's like putting a band-aid over a wound that was festering." She held his gaze and gave him a wry smile. "If it's anything I've learned this past year, it's that lies just cover up what's hurting, what's wrong… And it doesn't do anything to heal it. It didn't do much to heal what was hurting between us."

A dark shadow of remorse crossed his features -- just briefly -- and she reached out to put a hand over his. This was important, she thought, and she wasn't finished.

"No more lies, Ollie."

With his lips pinched together, he turned his hand upward and gave her a squeeze. He was going to agree-- to promise. She could see it in his eyes, the words were ready on his lip. So she beat him to it.

"Oh, you can have your secrets," she said. She narrowed her eyes at him, and pursed her lips into a faint curve to show she still knew a thing or two about him-- the real Oliver Queen. A promise to tell her the truth every single time was a doomed one. 

"Until you're ready to share, anyway. But no more lies. I mean it. Not to me," she said.

After a beat, Oliver's eyes drifted close for a second as he smiled -- really smiled -- and he nodded. "No more lies."

"Good," she said. And just like that, her heart felt a little lighter. A little freer. It was a good feeling. "And I want to help."

He blinked. "Laurel…"

"I mean it, Ollie, I want to help," she said, firm in her resolve. "And you know if you don't let me, I will still figure out a way without you. Besides, I think your team could only benefit from having some inside legal assistance." She grinned. "If only to make sure none of you actually get caught and convicted."

Oliver laughed and shook his head lightly. "Well. It would seem to me you actually already have your hands full. With, you know, single-handedly putting city hall back together."

"And you're the reason we even have a city," she said. "Just imagine what we can do teamed up together." Her tone was only half-joking. 

And just as she spoke of teams, she spotted the familiar woman and man walking down the park path toward them. Laurel stood up and turned to face him. Oliver looked up at her with those clear blue eyes of his.

"I'm proud of you, Ollie."

He hadn't expected that either. He stood slowly, and he couldn't quite hold her gaze. Oh, Ollie, she thought. When he finally tilted his head at her, she leaned up and pressed her lips against his cheek. His breath brushed against her ear as she heard him murmur, "Thank you."

 

While Oliver waited at the park bench, Laurel dropped her now empty cup into a trash can and approached his partners. John Diggle and Felicity Smoak. The large bodyguard seemed to know her intent, even as she greeted them. He was already angling and quietly excusing himself when she asked to speak to the other woman for a minute. 

Behind those dark rimmed glasses, Felicity looked at her with open curiosity and maybe a little bit of wariness. 

"I wanted to say thank you," Laurel said. "For what you did that night."

Felicity blinked. "Oh." She pushed her glasses up and smiled. Her left shoulder rose and fell. "It was a team effort. I mean, Oliver did a lot of the heavy lifting, but it was definitely a team effort. Honestly, we even have to give some credit to the assassins Sara brought in." The woman broke off, her lips parting slightly. "I mean, uh, you're aware that they were …"

"I'm aware," Laurel said, amused. 

Felicity had always been a puzzle piece that Laurel couldn't place. Now she realized why. She had only seen Felicity through the eyes of who she thought Oliver was; and that had been a version of Oliver that was woefully inconsistent. An intelligent former IT girl at his side didn't fit. Not in a way that was complimentary to Oliver, anyway.

Now, Laurel could see that it did. 

"Oh, good," said Felicity. She pulled a face. "I would not like to be the one who spilled the beans on that."

"Well, what I meant was you putting your life on the line for mine." After the rescue, Sara had explained how Felicity's injecting the cure into their kidnapper had been part of the plan. 

"Oh, well, you would have done the same for me." 

She said it so matter-of-factly that it gave Laurel a moment's pause. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, er, I mean…" After a pause, Felicity's eyebrows lifted. "Wouldn't you?"

"Well," Laurel said, taken a little aback. She glanced over her shoulder. Oliver and John Diggle were watching them, but were also engaged in their own conversation. She wondered if they were talking about her and Felicity. "It's just, you don't even know me."

One corner of Felicity's mouth lifted. "Well, I guess that's true. I mean, we've never really talked. But I've met Sara. And your dad. And I know that up until not too long ago, you were the champion of the downtrodden." The other woman made a little awkward, hesitant fist pump. "It seems like a Lance family tradition: putting in the good fight for what's ultimately right and good."

That surprised a small laugh out of Laurel. "Yeah, I guess you can say that." She tilted her head. And what about you? Laurel wondered. What motivated an intelligent IT woman to put her life on the line? 

Months ago, in not her prouder moments, she'd dismissed Felicity as someone who was infatuated with Oliver. But now...

"How is your father, by the way?" Felicity asked.

"He's recovering." Something occurred to Laurel then. "Do you… Do you know how to contact Sara?"

"Well, sort of. If by contact, you mean leave a message that she will somehow eventually retrieve, then yes. Oliver had me relay Detective Lance's condition the moment he found out," Felicity said. "I left an update when he was out of critical condition, too." 

Goodness. The blonde seemed to follow her thoughts before she could articulate them. 

"Oh, if you want, I could set up a means of communication between the two of you," Felicity said.

"I'd.. like that," Laurel said, blinking. "Thank you."

"Sure. I'll let you know when I've set it up."

It wasn't until Felicity started to fidget under her gaze that Laurel realized she'd been staring at the blonde. Laurel reined it in, and smiled her polite lawyer smile. 

"Well. I need to get back to the office, and you…" She lifted her chin toward the men behind them. "They're probably waiting for you."

As Laurel headed out of the park, she stole a glance before she left. Oliver was speaking when Felicity pulled out some tablet. Diggle stood between them. A bittersweet pang weaved its way into Laurel, and as she moved out of sight, she couldn't quite decide what it was. 

But by the time she reached the Starling Office, that pang had sharpened, twisted, contracted, remolded… until she had transformed into something else that she could recognize. Determination. Hope. Purpose.

**Author's Note:**

> This was ridiculously hard to write. It came to me as a bit of Laurel's dialogue that excited me, but then I struggled to start it... and then I struggled to finish it. Like I said, this is _not_ intended to be anti-Laurel. If anything, I wanted to treat her with respect. I'm not sure how much I succeeded, but I decided I've gnashed my teeth on this long enough. So to paraphrase Churchill, I am "killing the monster, and flinging him out to the public.” If you've gotten here, then you've given this ficlet a shot, and you have my thanks (and a virtual cookie)! I hope there was something in it for you to enjoy.


End file.
